Smith asked a while back that some of his male friends write on the theme of being a Christian leader or Christian man. I chose to write on the idea of being a Christian man because, well, regardless of what I may think of my leadership abilities, I’ve got the proof that I’m a man!
It’s actually pretty easy to be a man in America today. Or, it’s at least pretty easy to identify those we consider men in America today. There are certain understood, if not explicit, criteria that make up what it means to be a man: status, image, wealth, power, machismo, and so forth. But identifying what it means to be a Christian man? Well, that’s totally different. If, by using the label “Christian,” we mean one who attempts to live like Christ, it would seem that a Christian man (and this applies to women, too) is identified not by the outward marks of achievement, power, etc, but by something else. In fact, Christ’s life was marked not by achievement, power, and success, but by things like poverty, homelessness, solitude and, finally, humiliating death. Not exactly the kinds of things you would expect to find in a church marketing campaign (“Join this church and we promise you a life of uncertainty, betrayal, poverty and…DEATH!!!”).
The problems, as I see them, are two-fold. First, we’ve confused what it means to be Christian men with what it means to be men in American who, almost after the fact, claim also to be Christians (this is exemplified by the almost now-universal pointing fingers skyward after someone scores a touchdown in American football). What ends up happening is that our lives become disordered when our identity as Christians is a secondary part to our identity as men, professionals, Americans, etc. Consequently, the marks of our faith—-things like prayer, worship, and acts of charity—-are likewise disordered. For example, rather than praying in patience for God’s will to be done (something that we should not pray for unless we’re actually serious), we pray in haste for something that we want, which is often some mealy-mouthed appeal for more job security, or better retirement, or an “A” on our test. I should know; I offer those prayers frequently. The problem is that a life disordered aims at the wrong end. When we replace God as the end or goal of our lives with something else we, in effect, neuter the power of Christian faith. And this brings up the second problem.
Christianity in contemporary America is too safe. There was a time in Christian history (particularly in the early centuries of the Church) when making a claim to Christianity really meant something, usually death by the government. Now, I’m not pining for the days of persecution; in fact, I’m rather happy that I can choose to worship without fear of being murdered. What I am saying, though, is that making the claim that “Christ is Lord” really ought to require some serious sacrifice. As a favorite theologian of mine, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, once said, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him, ‘Come and die.’” Period. In other words, quit equating your desire for things like image, wealth, and power—trivialities in life, really—with a life spent following Christ, because they are not the same thing. (Ironically, Bonhoeffer was later executed by the Nazis.) Christianity loses its punch when it becomes too cultural. When it is no longer a shock that a man can claim that Christ was dead, buried, and resurrected, then something is amiss. This is why Paul said in his first letter to the church in Corinth that “if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain.” If the claims that we make regarding Christ are too commonplace, then our lives are meaningless.
Being a man in America is not the same thing as being a Christian in America, though the two are often confused. To be a Christian man means to devote oneself to a life of sacrifice and potential hardship with the recognition that, in Christ, all things are made whole, and we can begin to see rightly the things we have previously misunderstood.
In C.S. Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia, Mr. Beaver is taking the children to meet Aslan for the first time. In their naivety, the children inquire whether Aslan, the lion representative of Christ, is safe. Mr. Beaver, almost incredulously responds, “Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King I tell you.” As far as I can tell, to be a Christian man is to affirm what Mr. Beaver says. Christ is not safe, but he is good. And all of the things that we might consider the marks of manhood in contemporary society pale in the light of Christ’s goodness. It is a leap of faith to make this assertion, to be sure. But it is the best dangerous leap we can take. Perhaps there is a call for Christian men in America to put away the things that are safe in exchange for the things that are good.
John Burk teaches in the Religious Studies Department at Seton Hall University in South Orange, New Jersey. He and his wife, Margaret, live with their son, Oliver, in New Jersey. He can be reached at burk61@gmail.com.
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